Across the Universe

16 ELDER

SHE STARTS CRYING. NOT SOFT, SAD TEARS, BUT THE ANGRY sort, like she hates the whole world, or at least the ship that’s now her world. So, I do what any reasonable person would do when faced with a crying girl.

I get the frex out of there.

A familiar beep, beep-beep fills my left ear. “Com link: Eldest,” says the soft female voice of my wi-com.

“Ignore.”

Eldest had left the Hospital as soon as Doc had begun administering post-regenerative meds to Amy. He hadn’t helped set up the IV bags or watched as they slowly dripped three full bags of nutrition and fluid into her. He wasn’t there to help us lift her onto the new bed in the Ward that Doc made up for her. He wasn’t there when she woke up, having stayed by her side for more than seven hours just so she wouldn’t have to wake up alone.

I don’t really care what he has to say right now.

What I care about is Amy. Maybe if she sees more of Godspeed, she won’t cry so much. If I can bring her a piece of her home, something that reminds her of Sol-Earth, maybe she’ll…

I head straight to the garden just behind the Hospital. The garden is full of blooms right now, but I know what I want — the large yellow and orange flowers growing near the pond, the ones with streaks of color almost as brilly as Amy’s hair.

It takes me a moment to find them; there’re only a few blooms left, their big heads drooping toward the pond water. I kneel, ignoring the muddy stains seeping into my trousers, and break the stems of half a dozen flowers. The petals are as long as my fingers, curling at the ends, and their honey-like scent drifts lazily to my nose.

“Elder.”

Shite. I turn to face Eldest, my fingers tightening around the stems.

“You ignored my com.” His voice is low, monotone.

“I was busy.”

His cold eyes drop to the flowers in my hand. “Clearly.”

I start back toward the Hospital. Eldest follows me.

“You’re forgetting your duties. You have yet to complete the assignment I gave you yesterday.”

“It can wait.”

I start to climb the steps leading back to the Hospital, but Eldest grabs my shirt collar and drags me back.

“Being leader of the ship is more important than any girl.”

I nod. He is right.

“She shouldn’t even be here in the first place,” Eldest mumbles. “What a nuisance.”

I crush the flower stems into my palms.

“A nuisance?” Now my voice is a low monotone.

“Her presence is bad for the ship. Difference. The first cause of discord.”

Something roars in protest inside me. This is not the kind of leader I want to learn to be — one so coldly indifferent to Amy. Yesterday, Eldest told me that it was my job to protect the people. I didn’t know he just meant our people.

“Now go back to the Keeper Level and work on that assignment.”

“No.”

Eldest’s eyes widen, then narrow. “No?”

“No.” I rip myself from his grip and head to the Hospital elevator. Before the doors slide shut, Eldest steps inside with me.

“I don’t have time for your childishness. I’ll tell you once more. Go back to the Keeper Level.”

“No,” I say, still smiling, but it’s all a front to hide my fear. Eldest cannot stand rebellion, and I’ve never pushed back at him this hard before. Part of me wants to take it all back, apologize, and obey him like I always have. Part of me wishes he’d take a swing at me so I could punch him back.

Eldest raises his left hand to his wi-com button.

“Keeper override; Eldest clearance,” he says, and my stomach lurches. This can’t be good. “Command: apply noise modification enhancer to wi-com Elder. Vary tone and pitch. Intensity level: three. Cease at subject’s entry to the Keeper Level.”

Immediately, a low-pitched buzz fills my left ear. I clap my hand over it, but the noise isn’t coming from outside; it’s coming from inside my ear, in my wi-com. The buzz rises into a screech for a second, dips back into a buzz, then makes a grating, teeth-jarring scratching sound against my eardrum.

I jab my finger into my wi-com. “Override!” I say. “Command: stop all sounds!”

“Access denied,” the female voice of my wi-com says over a sound worse than the squelching noise of a cow giving birth. Augh! This isn’t like the biometric scanner where I have the same clearance as Eldest. Wi-coms are different, unique to each of us. The only thing that can stop mine from bugging out is Eldest’s.

“Make it stop,” I say to Eldest. A burbling sound pops in my ear, which isn’t too bad on its own, but each burble is punctuated by a short high-pitched eep! that makes me jump a little with surprise every other second.

The elevator doors slide open and we step into the common room.

“The noise will stop as soon as you enter the Learning Center prepared to learn and listen,” Eldest says pleasantly. He pushes his wi-com again. “Command: increase intensity to level four.” The sounds grow louder. Eldest smiles at me. Then he turns and strolls out of the common room toward Doc’s office.

I try sticking my finger down my ear, but it’s no good. The wi-com is wired directly into my eardrum. Something that sounds like glass shattering over a crowing rooster crackles in my ear.

“Nice flowers.”

“Orion?” Any surprise at seeing the Recorder here in the Ward is replaced by the cacophony vibrating through my left ear. I’d even forgotten the flowers clutched in my right hand. Green plant blood oozes between my fingers from broken stems.

“I needed to get more supplies.” Orion shakes a small plastic bottle, and pills rattle inside it. He must have swiped them. No one’s supposed to have a store of mental meds — even if you don’t live in the Ward, the Inhibitors are delivered daily, one pill at a time.

“Don’t want Eldest or Doc to catch me.” Orion pockets the pills.

I clap one hand over my ear in a feeble attempt to stifle the noise, but it’s no good.

Orion smiles grimly. “That old trick. There’s no point trying to stop the noise. It’ll just get worse the longer it goes.” He watches as I beat my fist against my ear. “Just do whatever he told you to do, or you’ll go mad from it.”

“How do you know?” The words come out harsh and angry, but only because I am having such a hard time concentrating on anything beyond the braying in my ear.

“I just wanted to give you a bit of advice — there’s no point in standing up directly to Eldest. Won’t work. He’s an old king, too used to power. You can’t face him directly. You’ll have to be a bit sneakier than that.” Orion tucks a piece of his long, straggly hair behind his ear, and I notice again the spiderweb white scars creeping down the left side of his neck, as if his flesh had been ripped open and the pieces didn’t quite fit back together again.

“I’ll do what I want,” I say as I push past him, one hand clutching my ear.

I stagger across the common room. When I pass Harley, I knock into his canvas as another high-pitched tone starts an unnatural staccato in my ear, throwing me off balance.

“Elder?” he asks, jumping up in concern.

I ignore him as I open the hall door and head toward Amy’s room. I’m going to give her these frexing flowers if it kills me. I won’t let Eldest push me around.

“What’s wrong?” Harley’s followed me. He leaves a koi-colored hand-print on my arm as he reaches for me, but I shake him off.

I stop at Amy’s room and knock on the door.

No answer.

“What are you doing here?” There’s a hitch in Harley’s voice that I notice through the loud crowing that’s started up in my left ear. I remember now — this was his former girlfriend’s room before it was given to Amy.

“A new res,” I say, wincing. My voice sounds loud to my pained ear.

Harley puts his hand to the wall, leaving behind a smear of orange-yellow on the matte white finish. No one will care; it’s just another mark of many. Ever since Harley moved into the Ward permanently, spots of color follow him everywhere he goes, like a trail of rainbows.

The wi-com is doing its best to distract me — the sounds and tones are cycling through at a dizzying pace. Part of me wants to bash my head against the door, just to make the noise stop. It’s driving me insane, the sort of insane that Doc’s mental meds can’t fix. My left hand grips my ear so hard that blood trickles between my fingers — I’m afraid I’ll rip it off. Instead, I punch the wall with my right hand.

The flowers I’d so carefully chosen from the garden — the big, bright blooms I’d selected specifically because they reminded me of Amy’s hair — crinkle against the force of my fist meeting the wall. Petals fall in a shower of reds and golds. I unclench my fist. The stems are a stringy, gooey mass. The leaves have been crushed beyond recognition. The flowers themselves are pitiful remnants of the natural beauty they held on the pond’s edge.

An undercurrent of clicking sounds adds itself to my tonal torture. I let the flowers drop at Amy’s door, slap both hands around my ears, trapping the noises inside my skull as I run from the Hospital to the grav tube to the Keeper Level and silent tranquility.